


HiJackings

by Kingpin



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Christmas Fluff, Drabble Collection, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, L - Freeform, M/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Not safe fk, One Shot, Shorts, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 18:51:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7585954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingpin/pseuds/Kingpin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An expanding anthology of my HiJack drabbles which are too short to have their own individual entries, but can be posted as a collection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Merry Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> It's Christmas Morning, and before they get involved in the hectic events their families have in store, Hamish Haddock and his boyfriend Jack Overland spend a quiet and relaxed moment to wish each other a Merry Christmas.
> 
> This story features some NSFW content.
> 
> Unless otherwise stated, Hiccup and most other characters from How To Train Your Dragon have been given more contemporary-sounding names.

**Soundtrack:** [Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - Ella Fitzgerald](https://youtu.be/9L5mPfpeXxk)  


* * *

  
Green eyes stirred from Nótt’s embrace as he awoke. They focused on the window across the room, where he could see blots of white lazily falling beyond the fogged glass. His eyes shifted to the red-green-yellow-blue glow of the Christmas tree and he let out a sigh. It was Christmas Morning.  
  
And he was alone.  
_  
_ Which he knew was a bit strange, as when he’d fallen asleep on the couch on Christmas Eve there’d been a second person beside him, who’d been hugging him contently after an intimate night together.  On top of that when they had fallen asleep, the fairy lights on the Christmas tree had been off.  
  
“Jack?  Hello?” he lethargically called out, the temptation to close his eyes and catch a few more minutes, or a half hour; or an hour of sleep was more than a little appealing.  
  
The cozy quiet of the room was gently disturbed by the sound of tiny metal bells jingling, and as music started to play from their Jukebox-themed CD player.  
  
_“♫Have yourself, a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light…♪”  
  
_ The tinkle of bells sounded again, and Hamish turned his head toward the back of the couch, where a Santa hat had just appeared over the upholstered rim.  The hat rose to reveal a few roguish strands of snow-white hair, followed by a dark pair of eyebrows and a pair of azure eyes, dancing with silent laughter.  
  
“Good morning.  Merry Christmas.”  
_  
“♪…Next year all our troubles will be out of sight♫.”  
  
_ “Merry Christmas.” he greeted in return, smiling a tired smile.  “I missed waking up next to you.”  
  
Jack’s eyes looked apologetic.  “Sorry, I had to wrap your present.”  
  
_“♫Have yourself, a merry little Christmas, Make the Yule-tide gay…♪”  
  
_ Hamish’s brows furrowed in confusion, and he turned a little to face Jack more easily; the motion causing the blanket to slip down a little, revealing the auburn-haired man’s bare chest.  
  
“Wrap?  We wrapped everything yesterday afternoon.”  
  
“Not everything.” he could hear the smirk in Jack’s voice, and the other man rose to full height, revealing his bare upper body and stomach. As he did so, the bells jingled again.  
  
_“♪…Next year all our troubles will be miles away♫.”  
  
_ Hamish’s brows furrowed further.  “Wait… where’re the bells?  They’re not on your hat.”  
  
Jack smirked again as he walked out from behind the couch, the bells ringing with each step.  Hamish blushed profusely when the rest of his boyfriend’s body came into view, and his face wasn’t the only place the blood rushed to.  
  
“Merry Christmas.” Jack said again, even he was red in the cheeks.  
  
_“♫Once again as in olden days, Happy golden days of yore…♪”  
  
“_ I don’t believe you.” Hamish covered his face with his hands, more amused than horrified.  Jack was standing at attention, and he had somehow managed to carefully wrap his manhood in shiny, red wrapping paper, with silver garland wrapped in a bow facing toward the man on the couch.  
  
The finishing touch however, was the metal ring he’d slid down his length, which had two bells attached to it.  
  
“Want me to-”  
  
“Don’t say it!” Hamish held up one hand to stop the blue-eyed man, and used the other to adjust the blanket that was now feeling a little tight.  “You say ‘give it to you’ and you’ll be finding coal shoved in a very uncomfortable place.”  
  
_“♪Faithful friends who are dear to use, Will be near to us once more…♫”  
  
_ Jack wiggled his eyebrows, and then gave his pelvis a bit of a shake, his balls making the bells rattle.  “Careful, I might enjoy it.”  
  
_“♫Someday soon, we all will be together… if the fates allow…♪”  
  
_ Hamish shook his head, a lopsided smile on his face. “Are those brass?” he nodded at the bells. “You might want to be careful; it’s cold enough outside to freeze them off.”  
  
_“♪Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow…♫”  
  
_ “So, do you like your present?”  
  
Hamish mulled over the question, and he then pulled the blanket back.  “Does that answer your question?”  
_  
_ Jack smiled. “Just what I wanted, how did you know?” he clambered onto the couch so that he was straddling his boyfriend.  
  
_“♫So have yourself a merry little Christmas now…♪”  
  
_ “I know what you like.” Hamish smiled, and then kissed the other man on the lips.  After a while he began to unwrap Jack, and after discarding the paper and ribbon, he carefully removed the bells. “Do I even want to know where you got these?”  
  
Jack kissed him, and took the bells, dropping them onto the floor along with his hat. “A website.  You should’ve seen some of the things they had for Christmas.  The ring wasn’t the only thing with bells on it.”  
  
_“♪Once again, as in olden days, Happy golden days, of yore…♫”  
  
_ Hamish chuckled.  “Ideas, ideas.  Something to think about for next year, then.”  
  
Jack laughed against his companion’s lips.  “Yeah.”  
  
_“♫Faithful friends who are dear to use, Will be near to us once more…♪”  
  
_ “When do we need to be at your parents?” Hamish asked, between kisses.  
  
“Oh, not for a few hours.  Plenty of time to kiss all my favourite bits of you under the mistletoe." _  
  
_ “Please tell me you don’t actually have one with mistletoe attached to it.”  
  
They rolled over on the couch.  “No, no.  They don’t sell anything perishable.  They did have a stocking that I could slip over my-”  
  
_“♫Someday soon, we all will be together… if the fates allow…♪”  
  
_ Hamish interrupted him with another kiss on the lips, and Jack smiled. He then began to place kisses on Hamish’s neck, and then continued to trail them down his chest.  
  
Hamish gasped as Jack’s lips reached a very tender spot.  “Fu-fuck. Please behave yourself when we’re at Mom and Dad’s later.”  
  
_“♪Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow…♫”_  
  
Jack removed his lips for a moment and gave his lover a wicked grin.  “I promise nothing.  Merry Christmas, Hic.”  
  
Hamish smiled back. “Merry Christma-ah-hah-sh-shit!”  
  
“♫So have yourself a merry little Christmas now…♪”


	2. Broken Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish waxes philosophically about the nature of breaking kisses.

“Do you know why it’s called ‘breaking a kiss’, when we stop, or pull away?” Hiccup asked, his arms hanging leisurely around Jack’s neck.

The white-haired man shrugged. His companion smiled.

“We break our kisses so that we can fix what’s broken with the promise of a new one.”

Jack smiled, and Hiccup shared it with him.


	3. Personal History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson Overland is a museum guide who has earned a reputation for helping to get children interested in history, thanks in no small part to one of the subjects closest to his heart: ancient Viking culture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by, and could be considered a bit of a remix of the short story "History" by WrC (http://archiveofourown.org/users/WrC/works).

Jack gave a friendly final wave as the last tour for the day moved off from the Exhibition Hall.  With the clamour of excitable children gone, he crossed over to the costumed dummies and slid the shield back in its proper place.  
  
He stepped back, admiring his work, before his blue eyes settled on the mannequin of the short Viking with the messy reddish hair.  
  
That was when he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve, and he turned around.

“Hi.” the boy greeted.  
  
“Hey.” Jack smiled.  “Are you looking for someone?”  
  
“No, I just wanted to ask you something.”  
  
“Fire away.”  
  
“How do you know so much about Vikings?”  
  
He cast another glance towards the ensemble cast on display.  “Oh, well, people have been studying Vikings for years, translating stuff, digging up things left behind, and from that the folks here and at other museums are able to get a pretty good idea about what they used to do.”  
  
“But you seem so certain about what you’re talking about, aren’t there things the museum people don’t know for sure?”  
  
“Definitely, but whenever there’s something they’re unsure about, they wait until they can find someone that proves what they’re thinking.”  
  
The boy looked puzzled.  “‘Someone’?” he enquired.  
  
Jack chuckled at the slip.  “Sorry, I meant 'something’.”  
  
The boy considered this, before smiling a little.  “Thanks, you’re a lot more fun than the other guides.”  
  
“I try.” he shrugged casually.  “Do you live locally, erm?”  
  
“Jamie.  Yeah.”  
  
“Cool, well tell you what.  The next time you’re here, tell them you’re a friend of Jack’s, and we might be able to show you some of the stuff they’re restoring.”  
  
Jamie beamed at the idea, and it warmed Jack’s heart.  
  
“Cool!” he glanced toward the door, where his mother and little sister were waiting patiently.  “I’ve got to go now.  Thanks, Jack.”  
  
The boy dashed off, a spring in his step and Jack continued to watch as they, and the last patrons left the museum.  
  
Once he was alone, he turned back to the red-headed mannequin again, dressed in a close facsimile of that familiar long, green shirt, and brown furry vest.  
  
This wasn’t his first museum job, nor would it be his last.  When you’d been around as long as Jack had, and could remember as much as he did, it was the natural way to put that personal history to good use.  
  
He could make history a little less dry for the children, and he had Hiccup for company.  What more could he want?


	4. Upworthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lesson that Hiccup probably shouldn't read comments off of Upworthy which Jack could twist around.

“‘A cup of coffee takes about 15-20 minutes to wake you up. A cold floor will take 15-20 minutes off your life’.” Hiccup read aloud as he scrolled down the article on _Upworthy_.  
  
“Only 15-20 minutes off your life huh?” Jack mused, a brow raised in amusement.  "That probably means you’ll be dead by thirty after all the nights we’ve spent together.“  
  
Jack would freely admit that the cushion to the face was painful, but _totally_ worth it.  Hiccup would later agree that that night’s passion was  _definitely_ worth shaving a year off the end of his life.


	5. Last Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a bartender and his patron become regular faces in each others' lives, when does the relationship become friendship, or even something more?

The evening rush had gone from a loud chatter and orders ranging from Mojitos to strawberry daiquiris and doubles of Butler’s Whisky, to a low murmur and pints of beer.  
  
And a glance at the clock at the end of the bar told him it was less than ten minutes to closing.  
  
The barman reached up for the brass bell hung from the back display, the rolled-up sleeve of his white button-down work shirt sliding back a little, revealing a few more patches of freckles which dusted his arms, and beneath his eyes.  
  
The rich tone of the replica ship’s bell rang out, as did his voice a moment later: “Last orders!  Last orders!”  
  
“Awwww.” a voice groaned at the bar, the sole patron who used the stools lining the counter.  
  
“Don’t give me that, you’ve been coming here long enough to know that when I ring the bell, it’s time to have your last drink.  Some of us have to get home and sleep.” the bartender smirked, his forest-green eyes dancing with amusement.  
  
“Fine.” a pair of distant-looking azure eyes glowered back.  “One more bottle of Jackman’s Reserve.”  
  
The bartender nodded, causing his auburn locks to bounce a little, before he grabbed a chilled bottle from the cooler, removed the cap and emptied it into a glass.  As the man at the bar took his time with his final drink of the night, some of the patrons placed their final orders, whilst others headed off into the cool summer night.  
  
By the time the minute hand had swept past 1:00am on the clock, the bartender had shut down the bar, and the snow-haired patron had finished the last of his drink.  
  
“Ready to go?” he directed to the regular, who’d started frequenting the _Hairy Hooligan_ Pub two years previously.  
  
“Yeah.” he nodded in return, stuffing his hands into his blue hoodie.  The blue-eyed man, the eldest of the two, despite how he looked and conducted himself, waited patiently on the sidewalk as the other man locked up.  
Carrying his jacket under his arm, the barman joined his companion at his side and they began to walk in a quiet, but familiar silence.  Eventually, the hoodie wearer would begin to strike up a quiet conversation, talking about the stars, the universe, the nature of the universe, as he was so want to do.  His companion smiled, he’d learned quickly that the older man was a philosophical drunk.  
  
And he wouldn’t have had that any other way.  
  
“Thanks for walking me home.” the patron smiled, his eyes sparkling in the light of the hallway lamp.  
  
The bartender smiled.  He did this every time he walked him home.  “It was my pleasure, Jack.” he offered a care-free smile.  
  
Jack returned Hamish’s smile with an amorous one.  The bartender and his patron shared a kiss, before the victualler unlocked the door and pushed it open.  
  
What had begun as an amiable gesture, a friendly drunk keeping his bartender company at the quiet end of his shift, and said bartender ensuring his patron-turned-friend got home safely, had eventually shifted into many requests for Hamish to join Jack for a nightcap.  
  
Whether it was the white-haired man’s natural charm, or his persistence, or a combination of the both, Hamish would never be certain.  What he was certain of after they’d both woken up in bed together the following morning, was that Jack’s affection was just as real as when he’d kissed him for the first time, and all of the last order bells in the world couldn’t stop them from taking another sip of each other.


	6. Words on a Screen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being dumped via text message, Jack does his best to vent his frustration in a greener and airier place: the local park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story contains some strong swearing at the start.

He re-read the screen of his phone for a third, and then a fourth time, the jolt of his heart still reeling in his chest. He re-read it a fifth time, trying to get his brain to comprehend the message he’d received less than ten minutes ago:  
  


> **It isn’t working Jack, I’m sorry.**

  
That was it?  Three years together and it’s over in six words, one comma and a period?  
  
Fuck him.  _FUCK_ him!  
  
Jack swung his arm to hurl his phone at the wall, but didn’t let go of the device - it’d feel good for a moment, and then he’d have to go and buy himself a new phone; and that’d be almost as fucking annoying as the fact that his boyfriend of three years had decided to be an absolute asshole and dump him by text message.

_Who dumps someone by text?_ Jack wondered bitterly.   _You’d think we’d have finally trained people to not be so fucking selfish._  
  
He took in deep breaths for a few minutes to calm himself down, and then in a moment of justified pettiness, he deleted both the text history from _him_ , and erased the contact information for his now-ex.  
  
Feeling a little bit better, he decided he needed to go out and vent, and what better place to do that than a bar?  He grabbed his blue hoodie and keys, and left the apartment.  
  


* * *

  
He’d been walking along, brooding to himself as he cut through Baruchel Park.  It was a Saturday and there were plenty of people out and about, having picnics, rowing boats on the lake, and generally being so sappily adoreable it would make someone nauseous.  
  
He came to a sudden stop for a moment, and checked the mood he’d just started to slip into.  He rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighed, and offered a silent apology to the other people in the park, they hadn’t done anything to him… he shouldn’t think badly of them just for having someone else who was actually considerate and thoughtful.  
  
He stuffed his hands into his pockets of his hoodie and began to walk again.   _Uuugh, I probably shouldn’t be going to a bar when I’m like this.  That doesn’t sound like a lot of fun times, it’s actually a pretty_ bad _idea._  
  
His direction veered off of the concrete pathway, and he idled down to a fallen trunk by the lakeside.  
  
He climbed and perched atop the silver, sun-bleached wood and glanced out across the shimmering surface of the water.  He at once felt both at home near and cautious of large bodies of water, after a bad experience that’d nearly claimed his life a few years ago.  Ever since then, he’d only ever gone skating with his sister Olivia at official, artificial skating rinks.  
  
The gentle sound of lapping ripples, of the sun sparkling in reflection on the surface, and the contented chatter of ducks eased him into a more calm mood, though one that was still tempered with melancholy.  
  
 _Would it have killed him to have come around and talked to me in person?  Did I mean that little to him?_ Somewhere in the distance, a dog began to bark excitedly.  _Guess I must’ve._  
  
He pulled out his phone, and began to type.  Although he’d deleted _his_ contact information, he still remembered the number by heart, and probably would for a while longer.  As soon as the number was entered, he began to type away at the keyboard on the screen.  
  
After several revisions, he finally hit the send button:  
  


> **Some advice for you for the future, don’t break up with someone by text message.  If you’ve been with them for any length of time, you sit down and tell them to their face - that’s what mature adults are supposed to do - I shouldn’t have to be the one to tell you that.  Feel free not to reply to this.**

  
He didn’t expect _him_ to reply, and he let out another frustrated exhale as he slipped the phone back into the pocket of his jeans.  
  
The dog barked again, and he idly glanced toward the source of the sound.  A man was playing fetch with what either looked like a pure black German Shepherd, or a Dire Wolf. It was tricky to tell from that distance.  
  
He turned back to the lake and closed his eyes, shifting slightly on the trunk to find a more comfortable position.  Several minutes of peaceful ambiance followed, before the dog began to bark excitedly again, and something bounced against the trunk.  
  
Jack had managed to turn his head and open one azure eye in time to see a large bundle of black fur bolt toward the trunk and snag the tennis ball. Seeing him, the dog tilted its head slightly.  Jack’s other eye opened and his brows furrowed when he noticed the dog’s set of peepers.  
  
 _Wait… are they green?_  
  
“Toothless!” a voice called out in the distance, but Jack didn’t look in the direction it came from.  He swung his legs out so his Converses just touched the ground.   The dog tilted his head the other way.  
  
“Well you’re a handsome guy, aren’t you?” he tentatively reached out a hand, but the dog’s ears flattened, and he emitted a low growl.  “Sorry, sorry!”  
  
A body came jogging over, and the German Shepherd immediately brightened, his tail swinging enthusiastically.  
  
“Toothless, that wasn’t very nice.” the other man gently admonished, before turning his attention to Jack.  “Sorry about that, he’s a bit fussy with strangers.”  
  
Jack shrugged.  “Don’t worry about it.”  
  
“If you close your eyes and hold out your palm, he should be a lot more friendly.” Jack glanced between the auburn-haired man, and the dog, before he slid off the trunk completely into a crouch.  Covering his eyes with one hand and holding the other out, he waited patiently until he felt a warm breath on the palm of his hand, followed by a couple more.  He grinned when he felt a damp lick go across his hand.  
  
“You can open them now.” the other man said, and Jack was met by the sight of the Shepherd looking a lot happier.  “I don’t know what it is exactly, but he’s been like that since he was a puppy.  I guess he’d had some bad early experiences.”  
  
“You adopted him?” Jack enquired, and the other man nodded.  
  
“I found him when he was pretty young, and he must’ve had a rough start because beside him not wanting me to touch him at first, he was also missing a bit of his tail.”  
  
At the revelation, Jack glanced back at the Shepherd’s tail, and now noticed it was much shorter than usual, he wondered how he’d missed that earlier.  A thought then occurred to him:  
  
“Why’s he called ‘Toothless’? He seems to have plenty of teeth.”  
  
The dog’s owner chuckled.  “He was about three weeks old when we first met, and he hadn’t started teething yet.  It was only meant to be a temporary name, but it kinda stuck.” he made eye contact with the black dog.  “Say hello, Toothless.” the dog looked at Jack, and as soon as Jack held out a palm, Toothless raised a paw and they shook.  The owner chuckled again. “There we go.”  
  
“Thanks.” Jack replied, a half-smile on his face.  “You’ve had him since he was three weeks old?  He must’ve been a handful.”  
  
“He was, but it was all worth it.  One of the biggest challenges was getting his tail seen to, though the vet was able to clean it up, as it was a recent injury at the time.”  
  
“Poor guy.” he gave the dog an experimental stroke on the head.  
  
“Scratch him under the chin, and he’ll love you forever.” the owner suggested, and Jack did as instructed.  In response, Toothless flopped to the ground and rolled onto his back. At the invitation, Jack began to rub the Shepherd’s belly, which the canine lapped up.  
  
After a while, Jack relinquished the animal, and rose to his feet, he was surprised to be greeted by a wet wipe, which the dog’s owner offered.  
  
“Thanks.” he took it, and cleaned both his hands.  “He’s pretty awesome.”  
  
“He definitely is.” the other man smiled widely as he looked down at the expectant looking dog.  “I’m Hamish.” he offered his hand.  
  
“Jack.” the white-haired man shook it in return. “You live locally?”  
  
Hamish nodded.   “Yeah, just a few blocks from here.   I’m usually here most weekends, as it’s a great place to get Toothless some exercise.”  
  
“Yeah.” Jack nodded.   “It’s also pretty good for snowball fights and fun times.”  
  
Hamish considered something briefly.  “Do you want to tag along for a while?”  
  
Jack shrugged, and then smiled. “Sure, I’d probably be staring at my phone screen, otherwise.”  
  
They walked away from the lakeside toward the clearer part of parkland.  
  


* * *

  
They’d spent a couple of hours conversing while playing fetch with Toothless, but as the midday sun dipped into late afternoon, the dog was now looking tired.  
  
“We’ll have to do this again, I think we’ve both managed to wear him out.”  
  
Jack chuckled, and then the edges of his lips tugged into a smile.  “That sounds like a plan.”  
  
Hamish extracted a phone from his pocket, and handed it over to Jack. “Feel free to add yourself to my contacts.” Jack navigated the menu, and created an entry for himself.   Finished, he handed the phone back to the green-eyed man, who quickly began to type on it.  A moment later, Jack’s phone chimed.  
  


> **1 unread message from: unknown**

> **Hey.  So this is my number**

  
Jack smirked, and saved the number to his contacts, once he was finished, he put the phone away again.  “So I’ll see you tomorrow then?”  
  
“Definitely.  If Toothless has his way, he’ll probably have you down here every weekend.” Hamish gave the German Shepherd an affectionate stroke or two.  
  
“I can think of worse things.” Jack laughed lightly, and he gave the dog a sign of his own affection. 

_Oh man, he’s going to get spoiled rotten._  
  
Jack shot Hamish a brief wave as they departed, and the auburn-haired man fired one back in return.  Eventually, both dog and owner had vanished from sight, but Jack remained standing there for several minutes longer.  His hand tightened briefly around the phone in his pocket, before he let go.  
  
His mood had improved considerably from having met Toothless, and his owner, and while he wasn’t looking to get into a new relationship so soon after his last one had ended, especially as there was the risk starting one so soon would have it end up being a rebound, he had to admit that Hamish was pretty handsome.  
  
He pulled out the phone again, and re-read Hamish’s text to him.  It wasn’t elaborate or flirty, but those six words on the screen made him smile, they were the promise of a new friendship - if it became anything more, that’d happen in due course.


	7. The Party's Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night that appears to be ending early thanks for a house party going sour takes an unexpected change of direction for Jack when he bumps into someone he recognises from school.

**Soundtrack** : [Sober - Pink](https://youtu.be/6XVrWSdCTN4)

* * *

  
“♫…'I'm safe…  up high…  Nothing can touch me, but why do I feel this party's over?'♪” the tune petered out from soft singing to contented humming.  In the distance behind him, the dull repetitive thud announced the location of the house party he’d decided to leave.  
  
It'd started well enough: some great music, a decent lighting rig and a reasonable drink and snack selection.  
  
And then… then the blond-haired twins of chaos and devastation had arrived, and the mood had instantly changed.  
  
All of Burgess knew of the Thorston twins, and their trademark shenanigans, and he'd decided then and there to head for the door.

The warm air of the early evening had given way to a pleasant chill that cooled the skin that wasn't either covered by his hoodie or his tank top.  
  
Apart for the quickly-receding house, most of the others on the block either looked like they’d settled in for the evening, or had actually already gone to sleep.  Aside from the occasional car that passed by, there was almost nobody else out walking.  
  
The first person he’d seen in the five-ish minutes that'd passed since he'd stepped off the porch of the Jorgenson household was around his age, and walking with a steady pace that'd take him past the hoodie wearer, and presumably straight to the party now a block away.  
  
The escapee slowed his gait, figuring he'd save the other guy from a ruined evening.  
  
“Hey… you going to the party over on DeBlois Street?”  
  
The auburn-headed teenager faltered a little, hesitant.  “Yeah… why?”  
  
“You might want to give it a miss.  The _Thorstons_ have just shown up.”  
  
The other guy's green eyes flashed with alarm, and his mouth drew into a thin line.  He looked off in the direction of the thumping baseline, and then back up the street in the direction he’d come from.  
“Shit.” he dug out his phone and quickly typed a text message.  As soon as he’d returned the phone to his pocket, he rubbed the back of his neck and then turned his attention back to the teenager with blue eyes in front of him.  “Thanks for saving me from whatever disaster they’ll probably end up causing.”  
  
“No problem.” he responded, throwing the other guy a carefree smirk.  “Though I guess we're both party-less now.”  
  
The other guy had a thoughtful look on his face for a moment, and he then shrugged in a non-committal way.  “Wanna hang out then?”  
  
Jack let the idea process for a moment; he hadn’t planned anything beyond going home, and maybe playing some _Gears of War_ until he crashed out.  “Sure.” he smiled and began to amble back towards the centre of town.  “I know you, don't I?”  
  
“We go to the same High School.” the green-eyed teenager nodded.  
  
“Halibut, right?”  
  
“ _Haddock_.”  
  
He grimaced.  “Oops, I knew it was some sort of fish. Sorry.”  
  
The other teenager gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders.  “Don’t worry about it.  Hamish, Hamish 'Halibut'.”  
  
“Jack 'kickedoverland'.” he smirked back, scoring an amused grin from Hamish.  
  


* * *

  
The short walk back to the centre of town had brought them past the statue of Thaddeus Burgess at the corner of the park, and to the front of a video arcade named 'Joysticks and Stones' that was just off of Main Street.  Inside the arcade, the plethora of games and entertainments were bathed in the glow of coloured neon.  
  
They’d started out with the air hockey table: simple and straightforward, and a good few games eventually saw Hamish end with a tight victory against Jack.  
  
That was fine, as Jack had good-naturedly beaten his companion at a laser-gun arcade machine based on the _Terminator_ franchise.  
  
They’d called it a draw when each teenager had won a game of pool against the other, and that point felt like the perfect moment to grab something to eat, and what better place than at the Pizza joint next door?  
  
“I swear this place and the arcade are owned by the same guy, it's so brilliantly evil: you tire kids out on your games, then force them to buy overpriced but delicious Pizza to recharge.” Jack explained.  
  
“Uh-huh.” Hamish hummed, humoring the white-haired teenager.  “Brilliantly evil.”  
  
“I know!” they settled down at one of the faded picnic tables sat on the grassy plot shared by the two businesses.  Hamish opened the box containing his Sardine and Pepperoni Special, while Jack began to tuck into his Ham and Mushroom Infusion.  
  
“What time do you want to head back?” Hamish enquired between mouthfuls.  
  
Jack made an unrevealing noise.  “My Dad’s letting me have until Midnight, howabout yours?”  
  
“Eleven.” the green-eyed teenager responded.  
  
“Fancy a few more games then?  I think I saw a basketball game in there.”  
  
A cocky grin spread across Hamish’s face as he washed down some of his Pizza with his drink.  “You’re on.”  
  


* * *

  
Jack had proven to be the better basketball player, a fact which Hamish had grudgingly conceded, but it was on _Dead Heat_ that Hamish had shown off his superior racing skills.  
  
The two of them had hung around to closing time at the arcade, eventually pushing through the doors at ten thirty; their skin flushed from their exuberance, Jack's hoodie slung over his bare shoulder, and their wallets considerably lighter than when they’d first arrived.  
  
Hamish chuckled as the doors were locked behind them, Jack’s arm lazily draped across his shoulder.  “You really know how to have a good time.” he smiled.  
  
Jack puffed out his chest.  “Pffft, Obviously.  I'm snowballs and fun times all rolled into one.”  
  
“You're not going to be seeing any snowballs this side of October.” the green-eyed teenager teased with a smirk.  
  
“Give me a freezer and then we’ll see who's laughing.” the white-haired young man stuck out his tongue mischievously.  “Or, stick with me until winter and I'll show you what I can do with the real stuff.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” the auburn-haired youth raised an eyebrow in defiance.  “What else do you have to offer to make me stick around?”  
  
Jack chewed his lip in consideration for a brief moment.  “Well…” he shrugged. “There's also this?”  
  
He leant over, pressing his lips gently against Hamish's in a simple kiss.  
  
After a minute that seemed far longer than it actually was, he pulled back tentatively, studying his companion's face, which had now shifted to a slightly darker shade of red.   The other teenager looked surprised, but not angry.  After processing what happened, he shot Jack a curious look.  
  
“You're pretty confident.  What'd if I'd been straight and I punched you?”  
  
Jack's face split into a grin.  “Then we’d have something funny to reminisce about, and I’m not all that worried about the kind of punch you can throw Hamish, I've seen your basketball arm.”  
  
“Ouch.  Asshole.” the green-eyed man retorted, but the barb was blunt and he was shaking with contained laughter.  
  
“So do you want to meet up again?  We can save some cash and play some console games next time?”  
  
“Deal.” Hamish nodded.  “What’s your number?”  
  
They quickly exchanged phone numbers, and at that moment Hamish took the opportunity to check the latest text he’d gotten in his on-going phone conversation with Astrid. Upon studying it he flinched, and he proceeded to read it out loud for Jack:  
  
“'Final update: half the party’s been taken sick after Rebekka and Tomi spiked the drinks (they wanted to see people breath fire - Don't ask me why).  I think all of the ambulances in town are parked outside.  I wish I'd met up with you instead of staying.  Hope you’re still having fun with your new friend'.”  
  
“I'm _so glad_ we missed that.”  
  
“Yeah, I think we had the better night.” Hamish agreed as he slipped his phone back into his cargo pants.  
  
A quiet minute passed between the two, Jack pulled his hoodie from his left shoulder so he could bundle it up under one arm.  
  
“So, I'll text you tomorrow?” the white-haired teenager ventured.  
  
“Yeah, talk to you then.” the auburn-locked youth affirmed, he then took a step forward, and they shared another brief, enjoyable kiss.  
  
They parted, both young men giving the other a warm smile, before they departed for their respective homes.  
  
Jack had only been walking for a few minutes when his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he took it out to read the new text message.  
  


> **_Thanks for the night out, Jack Kickedoverland. X - H._ **

  
Jack beamed, and typed a quick response:

> **_  
> My pleasure, Hamish HaliBUTT. X :P_ **

  
The blue-eyed teenager laughed quietly as he stowed his phone away and resumed walking home.  He began to hum again, and quickly the humming had transformed into singing:  
  
“♪'Ahhhh-Ahhhh, the night is calling… And it whispers to me softly 'come play'… I~ I am falling, and if I let myself go, I'm the only one to blame.  I'm safe… up high… Nothing can touch me, but why do I feel this party's over?  Oooh oh ooh!  No, pain, inside, you’re like perfection.  But how do I feel this good sober?!'♫”

 


	8. Pluviophile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pluviophile: (n) a lover of rain; someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days.

**Ambience Track** : [Rain](https://youtu.be/X2BMHrpWHyI)

* * *

  
Rain.  
  
The gentle patter of droplets hitting the concrete sidewalk and the buildings sent a breath of calm through Burgess, a relaxing pause to the day as the hours of Friday ticked closer and closer to Saturday, and to the weekend.  
  
There’d been a few people out and about when the clouds had opened up, and most of them had now quickly sought shelter to avoid a drenching.

Jack chuckled silently to himself a little as a man in a suit vainly protected himself with his sodden newspaper, Summer often proved to be one of the wetter times of the year for Pennsylvanians, the stranger should’ve known better.  
  
Shielded by his umbrella, Jack waited for the crosswalk sign at the corner of the park to finally flash **WALK**.  He turned bored, blue eyes towards the statue stood at the corner, and they drifted over the brief town history that was chronicled in raised copper lettering, before the light finally changed.  
  
His eyes widened as soon as he saw the man walking ahead of him, his brownish-red hair plastered to his skull, and his short-sleeved shirt over a long-sleeved T-shirt soaked through.  Jack shook his head and quickened his pace, they were going in the same direction, so he might as well offer the other guy some shelter.  
  
The auburnette quickly glanced up when he felt the rain stop, and the presence at his side.  
  
“Ah… thanks.” he responded with a damp smile.  
  
Jack shrugged.  “No problem.” he returned the other guy’s smile with one of his dazzling own.  “You’re going the same way I’m going, so if you’re interested I can give you a bit of shelter.  If it doesn’t sound creepy.”  
  
The other man laughed a little, and brushed some of his damp hair away from his face, making Jack notice his emerald eyes.  “Thanks, and it isn’t creepy.  I’m just walking home.”  
  
They walked in silence, the white-haired owner of the umbrella taking in the noises of water on the plants, and on the shingled rooftops of houses as the town square slipped away behind them.  
  
As they turned the corner onto a part-residential, part-wooded street, the man beside Jack started to slow his pace.  
  
“We getting close to your place?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s just over there.” his umbrella companion pointed out, indicating a two-story house with red trim, and burnt-orange panelling.  It suddenly conjured up images of autumn, despite being surrounded by vivid green shrubs and trees.  “Before I head in, I wanted to ask you something, are you okay?”  
  
The question had Jack off-guard for a moment.  
  
“Huh?  Oh, no, I’m good.  Was it about how quiet I got?”  
  
The other man nodded, a slight note of amusement darting across his mouth and eyes.  
  
“Sorry, I like listening when it’s raining outside.  There’s a word for it, something like ‘Ploovi’… 'Plooni’… 'Pluviophile’.  It means something like: a person who loves rain, and finds it peaceful.”  
  
The green-eyed man quietly laughed.  “I usually like it as well, but not when I’m in it without an umbrella.”  
  
“Leave yours at home?”  
  
“Yeeeep.” they’d reached the shelter of the porch, and Jack collapsed his umbrella briefly, shaking out the excess water out into the front yard.  “Thanks again for not letting me get any more soaked.  Would you like to come in for a Coke or something?”  
  
Jack shot the freckled, green-eyed man another smile.  “I won’t say no.” he then paused, holding out his hand.  
  
“Jack Overland.”  
  
“Hamish, Hamish Haddock.” Hamish took his companion’s offered hand and gave it a good squeeze.  He then turned his attention to unlocking his front door.  “We grab a couple of drinks, then open the window on the porch so we can listen a little more to the rain?  How’s that sound?”  
  
Jack followed Hamish into the front hall of the house, easing off his Converses as he went.  “Sounds like a nice silver lining to a rainy day.”


	9. Craft-A-Critter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not every day that Jack's parents let Olivia go to Craft-A-Critter, so when it happens, it's bound to be memorable.

                                                     

“Jack! C'mon Jack! Hurry up!”  
  
She’d been hopping about for nearly half the trip to Harrisburg as soon as she’d found out they were going to Craft-A-Critter. What child didn’t love Craft-A-Critter?  
  
Jack personally didn’t know any, and if he did, he’d have to ask them for their childhood membership card back, he was 18 and could easily see the appeal of the customisable cuddly toy chain.

The store was located on the second floor of the Lehigh Valley Mall, squeezed between Best Buy and Hot Topic, and easily drew the eye thanks to the colourful display of toys that were either already available to buy inside, or would be coming out in the next few months.  
As Jack’s little sister Olivia dashed inside in her enthusiasm, he paused at the doorway to cast his eye over one of the most recent arrivals to the workshop: a Ghostbusters-themed plush teddy bear. Dressed in a soft recreation of the uniform, wearing a cuddly rendition of the Ghostbusters’ equipment, the bear itself had white fur, black facial features, and a quiff, which reminded the teenager vaguely of the franchise logo.  
  
Chuckling quietly, he stepped into the store as a friendly member of staff in a white polo shirt and a blue apron knelt down to speak with Olivia. The older girl brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she listened intently to the new arrival.  
  
Evidently Olivia had said something in reference to Jack, because the other teenager was now looking at him.  
  
“…then maybe we should ask him then.”  
  
“Hey.” Jack greeted, flashing a friendly half-smile at her.  
  
“Olivia was just telling me that you’re here to help her choose her new furry friend?”  
  
“Yep, our parents are off in JCPenney’s, so I’m her guardian for the afternoon.”  
  
Astrid, according to her nametag, gave him a quick nod and began to talk animatedly to Olivia, before leading her over to a shelf featuring the many different bear and animal types that were on offer to buy.  
  
He hung back a short distance so that his little sis could get all of the attention for the time being. As he waited for his involvement to be asked for, Jack’s blue eyes scanned the shelves of products.  
  
_Man, if only teddy bears were this cool when I was her age._  
  
There were bears based on Star Wars, and on Marvel and DC characters; there was the aforementioned Ghostbusters bear, and then there were the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and some Pokémon. There were even some creatures that looked like dragons; a green one with two heads immediately caught his eye.  
  
“Check this out!” Olivia cheered, holding out her choices to Jack. She’d picked an ivory coloured bear with light brown paws, chest and ears. Astrid, who was stood behind her, was holding an Iron Man and a Spider-Man costume that were in scale with the bear. Jack grinned; she was most definitely his sister.  
  
“Oh wow, you’ve found a pretty handsome friend.”  
  
“She wanted to get both costumes for her bear, and I wanted to check with you to make sure it was okay.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s fine.” he nodded, and then knelt down so his eye line was roughly the same as Olivia’s. “What’s their name?”  
  
Olivia made a show of thinking for a moment, before answering brightly. “Phipps”.  
  
“Awesome. Is it time to fill him up now?” Jack glanced up at Astrid.  
  
“Sure, should we go make Phipps really huggable?”  
  
The young girl nodded with a broad grin, and Astrid led her over to the “love stuff” station in a corner of the workshop. Jack resumed watching from afar, and had been for about a minute when a figure quietly walked past him, making a clear line for the door leading into the area that was staff only. With a quick glance toward Astrid, who was in the process of filling Phipps’ body with Olivia’s help, the man pushed through the door and disappeared into the back of the retail unit.  
  
Jack quickly darted over to the stuffing machine and spoke quietly so he only attracted Astrid’s attention.  
  
“A guy’s just disappeared into your back room, he was looking pretty shifty.”  
  
A quick flash of alarm went across Astrid’s face, before she put on a calm expression similar to the one she’d had a moment ago.  
  
“Stay here.” she whispered to Jack, and then for Olivia’s benefit: “I’m just going to go check on something in the store room, but I’ll be right back in a minute.”  
  
The white-haired young man watched as she approached the door to the store room, grabbing a radio and what appeared to be an umbrella from beneath the counter. Briefly pausing beside the door, she pushed through into the space beyond.  
  
Several minutes went by while Jack waited, Olivia none-the-wiser as she tested how stuffed Phipps was.  
  
The door bumped open with little warning, the suspicious man being led out onto the workshop floor with his arm twisted behind his back.  
  
“Ow! Ooooowww!” he protested.  
  
Astrid brought him to a stop, and dumped a plush toy in a bag on the countertop. She gave him a rough shake for added effect.  
  
“Is this him?”  
  
“That’s the guy.”  
  
“What have I told you about sneaking around here?”  
  
He let out a huff. “That I need to tell you I’m here before popping out back.”  
  
“Right.” she affirmed, and then let him go. A smirk grew on his face as he rubbed his wrist.  
  
“I thought you said you were going to pretend-citizen’s arrest me?”  
  
She gave him a wink. “You know I get into the role when I’m acting.”  
  
The light bulb quickly lit for Jack as the realisation struck him. “You work together, don’t you?”  
  
The auburn-haired man nodded. “Yeah, though today’s my day off.”  
  
“I think Phipps is ready now.” Olivia’s voice piped up from beside Jack.  
  
“Okay, let’s take a look at him.” Astrid cast a look towards Jack, and then her colleague, before turning her attention back to his sister.  
  
“Why were you darting through here so quickly?”  
  
The other young man shrugged. “…some of our regular customers pop in pretty often, I wanted to dart in and out in case any of them showed up and cornered me.”  
  
“That’s fair.” Jack conceded. His eyes then drifted to the toy on the counter. It was partially obscured by the bag, but he could see the head poking out of the top: it was the black dragon plush, its vivid green eyes standing out in stark contrast to the fabric of its body. “Cute little guy, getting him for your younger brother?”  
  
Astrid’s colleague awkwardly bounced his hands against his sides, and briefly broke eye contact with Jack. “Actually… he’s for me.”  
  
Well, didn’t Jack feel like a judgemental prick. He was relieved when Astrid returned, with Olivia, and the completed Phipps.  
  
“Okay! So we’re just going to fill in your new friend’s birth certificate." she announced as she began to type onto a computer beside the register. "His birthday is going to be July thirtieth, he’s sixteen inches tall, eight ounces in weight, and you brought him to life. Do you promise to love him and give him a home?”  
  
“I do!” Olivia responded, solemnly and dutifully.  
  
“Then on behalf of Craft-A-Critter, here is a critter condo for Phipps.” Astrid smiled as she deftly assembled a cardboard carry box, styled to look like a house. Once it was assembled, she held it so Olivia could slip Phipps into the container, followed a moment later by his costumes. Astrid then closed the box and handed it to Olivia, who held onto it carefully.  
  
Jack glanced down at his sister, who beamed up at him. Seeing the obvious affection she had for the bear made a smile spread across his face.  
  
“Will there be anything else?” Astrid asked.  
  
Jack glanced back at her colleague. “Uh, yeah… could I get one of those Ghostbusters bears, with all the trimmings?”  
  
A flitter of surprise flashed across Astrid’s face, and she then smiled and nodded. “No problem.”  
  
“Do you have any blue hoodies in a size that’d fit the bear?” he asked.  
  
“We should, I’ll have a look out back.” Astrid responded, and disappeared quickly.  
  
Her colleague looked a bit less awkward now. “What kinda adult doesn’t buy a cuddly animal when they’re as neat as these ones, huh?”  
  
The other man nodded, his green eyes dancing with amusement. “I know, right?” he then held his hand out. “I’m Hamish.”  
  
Jack took the offered hand. “Jack.”  
  
A few minutes later, Astrid returned, a blue, bear-sized hoodie in hand.  
  
“Looks like this is the last one, you’re in luck.”  
  
Jack beamed. “Definitely.”  
  
She added the purchases to the total and glanced up at him. “Will that be everything for today?”  
  
“Yeah.” the white-haired teenager responded, and paid off the assorted purchases. With the transaction complete he glanced over at Hamish.  
  
“Can I buy you lunch or something? Say sorry for the whole ‘thief’ thing?”  
  
The other young man smirked. “Sure, there’s a Subway on the other side of this part of the mall.”  
  
Olivia and the two men gave Astrid a wave as they stepped out of the store and into the airy precinct of the mall. Both Jack and Hamish broke into self-conscious laughter when, having only gotten a few feet out of the door, Olivia had rather loudly proclaimed: “I think you’re right Phipps, I think Jack and Hamish like each other.”

                                                     


	10. A no-win Scenario

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew of the USS Enterprise are pitted against Khan in a battle to prevent him from stealing and using the Genesis device, can the Starfleet Captain and his crew prevail?

**Soundtrack:** [Battle in the Mutara Nebula](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_xN0LOLG3I)

* * *

 

 

 

> “Captain’s Log, Stardate 8141.5, supplemental.  Upon arriving at the Regula One laboratory we discovered all of the personnel, bar Doctors Carol and David Marcus have been murdered by Khan.  The only men still alive on the station were Captain Terrell and Commander Chekov of the USS _Reliant_.  After beaming down to the Regula Planetoid we located both of the missing doctors and the Genesis device.  With the device found, Terrell and Chekov revealed they were still being manipulated, resulting in the death of Captain Terrell and the incapacitation of Commander Chekov.  Using standard communications regulations we appear to have gained a small advantage over Khan.  I hope it proves enough to defeat him.”

  
“Captain on the Bridge.” Lieutenant Sulu announced as Captain Jack Overland, Science Officer Hamish Haddock, and Lieutenant Saavik stepped out of the turbolift onto the Bridge of the USS _Enterprise_.  
  
“Battle Stations.” the snow-haired Captain ordered as he approached his chair in the centre of the Bridge, while the auburn-haired Science Officer approached his station, and the Lieutenant took the Navigation station beside Sulu at the Helm.  On the viewscreen, a deck plan of the _Enterprise_ flashed in red as a claxon sounded, signifying the ship preparing for battle.  “Tactical?”  
  
The view on the screen was replaced by a graphic showing the relative position of the U.S.S. _Reliant_ from the U.S.S. _Enterprise_ , and the Regula planetoid.  Overland let out a disapproving hum as the speed calculations appeared on the screen.  
  
“She can still outrun us, and outgun us.” Hamish reported calmly.  “There is the Mutara Nebula, at 153 mark 4.”  
  
“Mr. Scott, can we make it inside?”  
  
“The energiser’s bypassed like a Christmas tree, so don’t give me too many bumps.” the Caledonian advised, from near the back of the Bridge.  
  
“I can’t make any promises.” the Captain responded, his blue eyes narrowing slightly at the screen.  “Report to position.” at the Captain’s order, the Chief Engineer headed for the turbolift and disappeared from sight.  
  
“Trouble with the nebula sir, is all that static discharge and gas clouds our Tactical display.  Visual won’t function and shields will be useless.” Saavik reported.  
  
“Then we’ll be pretty much even.” the green-eyed Science Officer responded, one side of his mouth lifting into a slight smile.  
  
The refitted Constitution-Class starship began to make its way towards the nebula, after several minutes that stretched onwards a chime sounded on Hamish’s console.  
  
“ _Reliant_ has spotted us and is now matching course to intercept.”  
  
Overland turned towards the Science Officer.  “How long until we reach the cover of the nebula?”  
  
The green-eyed Science Officer studied his instruments closely.  “We should be entering it in just over two minutes, Captain.” Hamish responded.  “Khan is closing in.”  
  
“Photon torpedo off of our starboard." a crewman manning the Weapons and Defense station reported, and a moment later the ship shuddered as the torpedo passed by.  
  
"That was close.” Saavik breathed.  
  
“A warning shot.” Overland mused.  “I get the feeling he doesn’t want us going in there.”  
  
“One minute to the edge of the nebula.” Hamish reported as he continued to monitor the _Reliant_ ’s course and speed.  He frowned as the numbers began to drop back.  “They’re slowing off, Captain.”  
  
“Uhura, raise the _Reliant_.”  
  
“Aye, sir.” the Communications Officer patched the _Enterprise_ ’s communications array with the _Reliant_ ’s.  “You’re on, Captain.”  
  
“This is Captain Overland.  We tried it your way, do you fancy another game?” after a moment with no reply, Jack added an extra bit of goading: “Khan?  I gotta tell you I’m not seeing that superior intellect you like to brag about.”  
  
_“Full impulse power.”_ Khan’s elegant voice spoke from the Bridge speakers.  
  
_“No, sir!”_ one of Khan’s acolytes protested.  _“You have Genesis, you can have whatever you-”  
  
__“FULL POWER!  Damn you!”_ Khan bellowed, and the line of communication was severed.  
  
“He’s predictably arrogant.” Overland replied smugly, as the U.S.S. _Reliant_ began to pick up speed once again.  
  
“Now entering the Mutara Nebula.” Hamish reported.  On the screen, a whirling, billowing mass of purple and blue clouds, broken by flares of white light, closed in on the ship.  The maelstrom looked like a vast, stellar thunderstorm.  
  
The Bridge shook as it darkened substantially, the main deck lighting had gone offline, as had half of the diagnostic displays.  
  
“Emergency lighting.” Jack requested, and the Science Officer activated a panel on his station, illuminating the Bridge once more.  
  
In front of them, the viewscreen continued to flash with static and flare with the bursts of light within the nebula.  A beeping sounded from the Tactical console as the static-shrouded image of the _Reliant_ flickered into view.  
  
“Target sir!”  
  
“Phaser lock inoperative, sir.” Sulu reported.  
  
Overland nodded “Give it your best shot.”  
  
A jolt shook through the ship as Sulu fired the Phasers, sending the burning red shots wide of the _Reliant_ ’s port, starting level with the Warp Nacelle and moving upwards towards the rollbar across the rear of the ship’s saucer section.  
  
In the brief moments of clarity on the viewscreen, the Bridge crew watched as _Reliant_ fired a photon torpedo in response, the weapon darting off with little risk of hitting the _Enterprise_ , its guidance system afflicted by the conditions of the nebula.  
  
“Hold current course.” the Captain instructed.  
  
The Bridge fell into an apprehensive silence as the crew waited, the only sounds a collection of navigational and status beeps.  On the screen, the silhouette of the Reliant flickered into view against a flaring part of the nebula.  The crew sprang into action at the sight of the rogue ship.  “Evasive starboard!” Overland shouted.  
  
The Reliant fired her Phasers as the _Enterprise_ banked starboard, striking the drive section in line with the torpedo launcher and docking port.  
  
“Fire!” The _Enterprise_ responded in kind, striking the _Reliant_ ’s Bridge, causing substantial structural damage.  
  
Granted a brief reprieve, the Captain leant forward in the command chair and hailed Engineering: “Damage report, Mr. Scott.”  
  
_“Captain, I’ve got to take the mains off the line…”_ Scotty’s voice spilled from the speakers on the Bridge, sounding exhausted.  _“It’s ra…diation…”  
  
_ “Mr. Scott?  Scotty?  Come in!” Overland called out anxiously.  
  
“The port-side torpedo launcher has sustained heavy damage and casualties, the launcher is currently inoperative.” Hamish relayed, summarizing the incoming reports.  
  
The doors to the port-side turbolift slid open, the whoosh they made drawing Overland’s attention.  Bracing himself against the side of the car before stepping out onto the Bridge, Commander Pavel Chekov moved to address the ivory-haired Captain directly:  
  
“Could you… use another hand, Captain?”  
  
The younger man in the command chair nodded with an amiable smile.  “Please man the Weapons console, Mr. Chekov.”  
  
The Russian looked relieved, and made his way to the console positioned at the captain’s 9 ‘o’ clock.  
  
“Hamish, status report.”  
  
“I’m detecting a sporadic energy reading to our port-side aft.  It could be an impulse turn.”  
  
The captain worried the forefinger of his right hand as he measured the information.  “He’s too stubborn to break off, especially now.  He’s going to try again, if he can.”  
  
“He’s intelligent, but inexperienced in starship combat.” the Science Officer assessed.  “He’s thinking too much in two-dimensional space, rather than three-dimensional.”  
  
“Full stop Mr. Sulu.”  
  
“Full stop, sir.” Sulu reported as his hand danced across the console.  
  
“Reduce our Z axis by eleven thousand metres, and ready photon torpedoes.”  
  
The wait began again, reminding the Captain of the ancient submarine battles beneath the oceans back on Earth.  
  
“I’ve detected those energy readings again, forty-five degrees to port.”  
  
“Plot to intercept.” the Captain stated and the crew acted out his orders.   In front of them, the viewscreen cleared again, long enough to see the underside of the _Reliant_ swing into view.  
  
At the Weapons and Defense station, a ping sounded and Chekov popped open a panel, grasping a joystick hidden within.  
  
“Torpedoes ready, sir.” he reported.  
  
“Stay focused.” the Captain pressed as the viewscreen flared into static again.  Occasionally the form of the other starship would materialize, but only briefly.  
  
The shot cleared up for long enough, and the Captain took his chance: “Fire!”  
  
Chekov pressed the button on the top of the control joystick, activating the starboard torpedo launcher.  It shot off, but glanced past the _Reliant_ ’s launcher, located at the mid-section of the ship’s rollbar.  
  
“Fire!” he ordered again, and the next torpedo smashed into the side of the _Reliant_ ’s saucer section, venting several rooms and corridors into space.  “Fire!”  
  
A third torpedo glanced past the _Reliant_ ’s port warp nacelle, had it hit it would have caused considerable damage to the ship.  
  
_Reliant_ began to employ a defensive maneuver, twisting away to prevent any further volleys of torpedoes from hitting it.  
  
The position of the other ship was lost as the static burst onto the screen again, blocking their view.  
  
“Damn!” the Captain swore, smacking one of the arm panels of his chair.  “Can we get a fix on their position?”  
  
Hamish shook his head.  “Negative, the energy readings and inconsistent; too weak to track.”  
  
More ominous minutes ticked by as the crew keenly kept their eyes to the view screen.  
  
“C’mon Khan, where are you?” the Captain voiced his frustration.  “Hamish, prepare to…”  
  
The remainder of the Captain’s order was lost as the deck suddenly rocked beneath them.  A second impact sent sparks flying and debris scattering across the Bridge as the Weapons and Defence console exploded.  A crewman rushed to Chekov’s aid as the Captain steadied himself.  
  
“Damage report!”  
  
“Warp drive is still inoperative, that last shot knocked out Phasers and photon torpedoes…” the Science Officer reported gravely.  “We’re defenceless.”  
  
Captain Overland swallowed, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.  
  
“Mr. Sulu, is impulse still functional?”  
  
The helmsman nodded.  “Aye sir, standing by for orders.”  
  
The Captain glanced back to his Science Officer; a small trickle of blood marred his forehead.  At the Jack’s unspoken question, he slowly shook his head.  The blue-eyed man let out a breath and turned back to face Uhura.  
  
“Hail _Reliant_.  Tell them… tell them we surrender.”  
  
The hazy image of Khan Noonian Singh appeared on the viewscreen, a smug smile on his face.  
  
_“It was a valiant fight, Overland, but we have seen who has the superior intellect.”  
  
_ “I will transport across shortly, all I ask is you spare my crew.”  
  
Khan appeared to consider the request, and eventually responded.  _“Captain, Captain, Captain… we have discussed this proposal before, and then you tricked me.  There is an old saying about being tricked twice, and I feel this time that it would be more fitting for the Captain to go down with his ship.”  
  
_ Jack bristled, angered at Khan’s decision not to spare his crew.  
  
Khan glanced to one of his acolytes off-screen.  
  
_“Prepare to fire in five… four… three… two… one…”  
  
_ The remains of the Defence console alerted the Bridge crew of the approach of a photon torpedo, and they braced themselves for impact.  
  
It was in that moment that the world around Captain Overland slowed to a stop, the image of Khan’s laughing face frozen on the viewscreen, while the Bridge crew, bar one, were stopped in-mid motion.  
  
Overland settled back into his chair, and unclasped the front of his tunic.  To his right, the Science Officer leant against his console and let out a deep breath.  
  
“Damn it.  I think we were close this time.”  
  
Jack looked towards his companion.  “I think if we’d just been a bit luckier with those last few torpedoes, we could’ve stranded him.”  
  
The Science Officer nodded.  “We can give it another try in three days.” he then rose from his chair.  “Computer, what time is it?”  
  
_“The time is seventeen-hundred hours and forty-three minutes.”_ the clinical, female voice reported.  
  
Jack rose from the Captain’s chair.  “We’d better get going; your Dad’s gonna want you back for dinner soon.”  
  
Hamish nodded in agreement and the two of them began to approach the ruined Weapons and Defence console on the port-side of the Bridge.  “Computer, arch.”  
  
At the auburn-haired teenager’s command, the holodeck arch materialized and as they drew near to it, the doors opened with a mechanical _whunnn-tush_.  At the apex of the exit, Hamish and Jack turned back toward the battle-scarred Bridge, the crew of the _Enterprise_ locked in stasis.  “Computer, reset program to time code fifteen minutes, ten seconds.”  
  
Before their eyes, the Bridge crew of the _Enterprise_ began to move in reverse as the preceding battle was undone.  When the simulation reached the moment in time Hamish had requested, the motion drew to a stop, leaving the virtual personnel once again frozen in a moment.  
  
“Computer, save program.” at the freckled teenager’s newest command, the Bridge crew shimmered and disappeared, a moment before the Bridge itself flickered and vanished, replaced by a large black rectangular room, the only detail being a grid of intersecting yellow lines.

* * *

  
A quick stop by Sickbay had seen to the cut on Hamish’s forehead.  With the injury tended to, the two teenagers walked the remainder of the distance to Jack’s quarters.  
The green-eyed man shrugged out of the thick, burgundy Starfleet tunic he’d been wearing, relishing as the cool air of the ships corridors met the skin of his shoulders and arms, left exposed by the black vest he’d worn beneath the vintage uniform.  
  
They’d spent the better part of a week trying to complete the holo-mission based on the encounter between James T. Kirk and Khan Noonien Singh, the mission which had led to the temporary death of Captain Spock, and the creation of the now long-destroyed Genesis Planet 85 years before.  
  
“I’ve got to tell you, I’m gonna be glad when we can finally put that mission to bed.  I’m really looking forward to giving the _Bounty_ a try.”  
  
“You’re not interested in the holo-mission where Kirk returns to the Genesis Planet?” Hamish enquired as they walked back to the blue-eyed teenager’s quarters.  The other youth made a dismissive noise.  
  
Jack made a somewhat dismissive motion.  “Eh, there’s hardly any battle between Kirk and Kruge, it’s mostly running around and stealing the _Enterprise_ … and then setting it to self-destruct.  It’s not the best mission in the collection”  
  
Hamish chuckled.  “Fine, fine.”  
  
“Great job, by the way.” Jack added, the remark genuine.  
  
“No problem, though I’m just doing what I think Captain Spock would’ve done.”  
  
A short turbolift journey brought them to the door of the Overland quarters, and they had to part briefly.  
  
“See you tomorrow.” Jack remarked casually, flashing Hamish a smile.  
  
The other teenager nodded with a smile of his own.  “Give your Dad my regards when he comes in from his duty shift.”  
  
“I will, say ‘Hi’ to yours for me.”  
  
“Sure.” The green-eyed young man smirked, and he then gave Jack a quick peck on the lips.  A moment later and Jack repeated the gesture.  The shorter teenager gave him a final wave as Hamish walked away, remaining at his doorway until his boyfriend had stepped out of sight.  
  
Jack smirked to himself and shook his head wistfully as he stepped into his family’s quarters, the life he had onboard the USS _Burgess_ wasn’t bad at all: he got to re-enact famous historical missions from Starfleet’s past on the holodeck, and he got to do that with his best friend and the person he’d fallen head-over-heels for.  He was now even in good standing with his significant other’s father, after a slightly rocky start, and boy did it serve you well to stay on the good side of the Captain when you were in a relationship with his son.


	11. Love and Cheer, Christmas and New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delivering that last-minute Christmas present might just lead to an unexpected one in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special little drabble just in time for the holidays, Merry Christmas/Snoggletog everyone, and hope you all have a Happy New Year. :)

  
  
_Well this was stupid_.  
  
It was cold, as pronounced as a wintry December could get in Rhode Island. There was snow drifting languidly from fluffy, overstuffed-looking clouds, blanketing Berk in a duvet of white which was broken only by the blue-grey streak of the Atlantic, the assortment of wood and brick walls of the buildings that made up the town, and the vibrant cacophony of Christmas decorations and lights.  
  
And here he was, doing his best to slowly transform into a snowman.

The idea had seemed sound enough; he’d managed to get permission from his father to slip out of the house quickly to deliver a few presents, although his father had wondered why he hadn’t delivered them on Christmas Eve. He’d dropped one off at Astrid’s, and another at Fiske’s, but it was the final recipient he was having difficulty meeting. So here he stood, a dozen yards from his front door.  
  
He had a good view of the window of the living room from where he hesitated, and he could see it was busy. Every so often he caught the unmistakable profile of Nick, with a handsome white beard and a rich red suit - he’d been told that at Christmas, Nick always liked to play up the fact he looked like Santa Claus – the old Russian greeted everyone warmly, a warm and welcoming smile continually displayed on his face.  
  
Hamish also caught brief glances of Jack; that unruly brown hair would stand out anywhere, and for the holiday the other young man had traded in his normal blue hoodie for a red one, decorated with a Christmas-themed pattern.  
  
And all the while, Hamish Haddock stood outside in the chill, his body unwilling to move. He wondered if he’d have any problem moving if it were just Jack and his adoptive father, if the large gathering and potential audience was what was causing him to have second thoughts.  
  
He glanced down at the small box, gift-wrapped in sky-blue paper with white snowflakes, finished with a silver bow. Jack’s colours.  
  
Feeling his nerves get the better of him, he turned on his heel and began to slip away from the house.  
  
_You weakling! You coward! You couldn’t-_  
  
“Hiccup?”  
  
Hearing the voice calling his nickname made him skid to a graceless stop on the somewhat icy sidewalk. He knew he shouldn’t turn around, but he did, spotting Jack’s head and one of his shoulders hanging out of the front door into the frigid air.  
  
“Hi, Merry Christmas.” Hamish greeted, an uneven smile on his face.  
  
Jack stepped out to fill the doorway. “Sorry if we missed you, I didn’t hear the bell ring.”  
  
“That’s okay.” he lied.  
  
“Do you want to come in?”  
  
“Thanks, I’d like to… but I need to be getting back to my Dad. I… uh… came to give you this.”  
  
He took his time to approach the porch and not let his left leg slip on any of the hidden pockets beneath the gathering snow. He handed the package to Jack, who gave him an appreciative smile.  
  
“Thanks.” those brown eyes danced with warmth, and he opened the present with the enthusiasm of someone half his age. Jack carefully extracted the present from the box; it was a figure, of Jack’s superhero alter-ego: “Jack Frost”. It looked just like him, but had vivid white hair, and a pair of blue eyes Hamish had taken considerable effort to paint at that scale. The figure wore a miniature version of Jack’s familiar hoodie, although it was dusted across the shoulders and neck, around the cuffs and around the pocket with silver thread, to represent frost. Finally, the figure was equipped with a small, wooden staff made of twisted plastic, painted brown, forming Jack Frost’s ice-creating staff.  
  
“This is awesome, Hic. Thank you!” the smile was rewarding enough, and Hamish felt his heart grow warmer from it. “Could you wait here a sec? I’ve got you something as well.”  
  
The green-eyed boy waited by the open door, peering in a little at the crowd gathered. Amongst the guests was a woman with a vivid selection of colour in her hair, a short man with a prominent golden mop, a tall, almost-brooding figure who almost seemed out of place at a Christmas party, and a care-free looking man with bluish-grey mutton chops which were distinct, but tidy.  
  
The artist had little time to study the guests in further detail, as Jack returned, with a package of his own, trimmed in green wrapping paper and a red bow. “Happy Christmas… Hamish.”  
  
An auburn eyebrow quirked on the other youth’s face, there was an odd infliction in the way that Jack had said his name, which had him suddenly curious. He took his time to unwrap the present, he knew his Dad could wait a little while longer.  
  
Unwrapped, he found a toy dragon inside the box. He removed the plastic creature and studied it. He could tell that it’d been modified from what it looked like originally, a coat of black paint had been as carefully as possibly applied across the body, with a subtle bit of blue to bring out some of the detailing of the scales and frills. The toy had been given a pair of green eyes, and one half of its tail had been painted red, and fitted with modified paperclips to suggest some sort of rigging system.  
  
“Wow…” Hamish gaped, genuinely impressed and taken back by what he saw. “I didn’t think you’d remember him.”  
  
“Toothless? How can anyone forget him, the first dragon to be trained and ridden by a Viking!” Jack beamed with enthusiasm that had been forged long ago. “I figured it was time you had him for real.”  
  
“He’s awesome Jack, thanks.” he grinned.  
  
Suddenly, Jack’s eyes became evasive, and he began to swing his arm idly at his side. “There’s something else, check under the tissue paper.”  
  
Hamish dug beneath the paper and found a piece of paper, folded into quarters. Unfurling it, he was met with a note written in Jack’s hand:

 

> Hamish,  
>  We’ve known each other since third grade, and  
>  I hope Toothless shows you just how well I know  
>  you. There’s something I’d realized back in eighth  
>  grade, and something I’ve felt since tenth grade…  
>  and I’ve been pretty nervous to tell you this as  
>  you’re my best friend, and I think I wrote this  
>  because I wasn’t sure I could say it out loud to  
>  you.  
>    
>  I like you, Hamish. Not just as a friend (which  
>  you’re awesome at, by the way - just saying),  
>  but also as more than just a friend.  
>    
>  I don’t know if you feel the same way… If you  
>  don’t, that’s okay, and if you’re still cool with us  
>  being friends, then that’d be more than enough  
>  of a Christmas present you could give me.  
>    
>  Please don’t take too long to answer; I’m probably  
>  standing like an idiot somewhere inconvenient.

  
Hamish’s feelings were a bit of a whirl, though despite that he still chuckled at Jack’s message. That was the other young man’s true talent: getting people to laugh.  
  
He trained his eyes on his best friend, despite his attempt to look casual; his nerves were getting to him now.  
  
Hamish placed the dragon and the note back in the box, and leaned into the doorway to set them down on the hall table beside the door. They were both conscious of the closeness of each other in that moment.  
  
He looked Jack in the eye again, and in a fluid motion, he placed a quick kiss on Jack’s cheek.  
  
When Hamish pulled away, Jack touched the spot, a slightly dopey grin on his face.  
  
“That was for a Merry Christmas.” the artist chuckled. “And here’s for a Happy New Year.” he leant in again, and this time they shared a longer, more significant kiss.  
  
They’d barely had a moment to themselves after the kiss had finished, before a cheer erupted from the living room window, and from the hall: their public spectacle had drawn a crowd.  
  
Hamish allowed himself to be convinced to stay for _one_ glass of hot chocolate only, and quickly fired off an apology text to his Dad as he made his way out the door, pausing briefly to share one last kiss with Jack.  
  
Christmas would be hectic, but it’d be the New Year when things would get unbelievable for Jack and Hamish.

* * *

**The End**

* * *

 


	12. Death Warmed Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bad: Jack looked and felt gross thanks to the winter cold he'd had. The good: the cute store clerk had proven sympathetic to Jack's predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t complain too much about the nasty bout of winter cold I had last night, as it gave me this little bit of inspiration for a HiJack drabble.

_Ew.  Ew.  Gross._  
  
His pyjama shirt clung to his clammy skin, an unpleasant reminder of the bout of _whatever_ he’d had to endure during his uneasy night’s sleep.  He pulled the shirt off and flung it into the hamper, grateful to remove the damp garment from his being.  
  
He pushed greasy bangs of formerly-white hair out of his eyes and allowed himself a smirk, while he still had a slight soreness in his limbs and his throat was giving him grief, at least the shivers and temperature fluctuations had passed.  
  


* * *

  
He’d quickly thrown on some fresh clothes and his hoodie, making himself as presentable as he was willing to be to make a quick journey to the store for some cold medicine.  
  
The synthesized tone announced his arrival as he pushed through the entrance of the convenience store, drawing the attention of the lone clerk.  Raising an auburn eyebrow briefly, he returned to his work.  
  
Jack’s cheeks reddened as he made a beeline for the medicine aisle, wishing profusely that he’s gone to the gas station instead… he didn’t want the clerk, who he willingly admitted he found cute, to see him looking such a state compared to how he normally did.  
  
Grabbing some Nyquil from the shelf, Jack traipsed to the one-person queue, and waited with brief irritation as an old lady monopolised the clerk’s time in her desperation for conversation.  
  
He willed his cheeks not to get any redder when the clerk offered the attention-starved granny a warm smile in parting, and then turned his attention to Jack.  
  
“Hey.” he greeted in that endearingly _adorkable_ nasal tone.  He glanced at the Nyquil as he scanned it, and then Jack.  “Bad night?”  
  
“You have no idea.” Jack returned, his voice sounding rough thanks to the sore throat.  
  
The clerk (Hamish, as his plastic badge announced) grimaced, and favoured him with a sympathetic look.  “Yikes, sounds like you might have a dragon in your throat.”  
  
 _That’s an odd turn of phrase._   “Something like that.”  
  
Hamish bagged up his medicine as he paid.  
  
“Say…” the clerk began to muse aloud.  “There’s this old saying about feeding a cold… and my Dad used to have this recipe that worked wonders with fighting a cold.  I could run a batch over to yours after I finish my shift?”  
  
Jack hadn’t noticed it at first, but it now struck him that there’d been a hesitant, nervous edge to the clerk’s proposal.  A thought quickly dawned in Jack’s illness-muffled brain: _Shit, is he actually asking me if I’d like him to come over?  Doesn’t he see how gross I must look?_   “Um, sure, that sounds great.” he did his best to flash his usual trademark half-smile.  “I just live across the street, in Pine Tree Apartments. 2C.”  
  
Hamish nodded, and gave him another smile, not the candle-power smile he’d given the old lady, no, _this_ smile was the full one-hundred watts.  “I’ll give you a buzz when I get there.”  
  
Jack smiled again as he took his purchase.  “Thanks.”  
  
Although he still felt like (and must’ve resembled) death warmed up, Jack couldn’t help but feel like he was walking on air.  He might’ve just been sorta-asked out by the cute guy at the store without even trying, whilst looking _ew-ew-gross_ from his cold.  
  
And as it would turn out, it wouldn’t be the last time Hamish _the cute store clerk_  would bring some soup to cure Jack’s cold.


	13. Auld Lang Syne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clock ticks down on the last day of 2016, and Jack muses on what makes the ideal New Year's Eve.

The ideal New Year’s Eve, so he’s often been told, is a chilled bottle of champagne, in Times Square, with shiny paper hats and plastic sunglasses in the shape of the year number. The glowing ball on top of the Toshiba billboard drops, the fireworks go off and the air is suddenly full of multicolour confetti.  As the confetti falls, you’d lean over and kiss the person you’re with (if you’re in that kind of a relationship).   
  
That’s the ideal, so he’s told, but instead he’s sat on a sofa patched up with duct tape, watching the live feed from Times Square on television whilst a large black cat dozed on the chair next to him. This is not living up to that lofty ideal.  
  
A can of Pepsi hovered into view and he glanced up at the provider, an auburn-haired man in a green sweater a couple of sizes too big. Jack grinned in thanks and took the offered drink as the freckled man sat down beside him.  
  
“Huuggghhhh.” the other man let out an exaggerated sigh of contentment.  
  
“That bad, huh?”

__

“Well, I’m only working on my own recollection, but it didn’t help that Rebekka and Tomi were pretty much completely responsible for why I got out of work an hour late today.” Hamish responded tiredly.  
  
“Ah.” Jack nodded in understanding, he’d heard _plenty_ of stories starring the Thorston Twins. Enough for one year, in fact. “Well, least you don’t have to see them for another year.”  
  
Hamish snorted in mock derision. “Oh yeah, all ten minutes of what’s left of twenty-sixteen.”  
  
Jack chuckled. “It’s not that bad, you’re not back in work until the third.”  
  
“Yeah.” Hamish’s agreement was satuated with relief. “I get a bit of a break from them.”  
  
“And you get to be here with me instead.”  
  
Hamish blinked owlishly as he thought that fact over.  “On second thought… I might volunteer to go in tomorrow-” the freckled man began to rise from the couch, but Jack pulled him back.  
  
“Don’t you dare.” Jack admonished playfully, Hamish chuckled.  
  
“I know, I know. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”  
  
That simple remark made Jack’s heart sing.  An aimiable silence settled on them as they got comfortable on the couch. They lay together, Jack’s arm across Hamish’s shoulders, Hamish’s head slightly on Jack’s shoulder, relaxed in each other’s presence. It remained like that for a few minutes until Hamish pulled away, much to Jack’s mild discontent.  
  
Dark eyebrows beneath frosted hair furrowed as he watched his boyfriend dig for something under the couch.  
  
“Lost something?”  
  
“Finding something.”  
  
Jack was intrigued, and his intrigue blistered into a broad smile when Hamish pulled out a pair of shiny paper hats from beneath the couch. He held one toward Jack, but snatched it away when the blue-eyed man reached for it. With a playful shake of his head, he leant over to slide it on his significant other’s head.  
  
“When did you get these?” Jack chuckled.  
  
“On my way home. When I stopped for some gas I saw them amongst a bunch of party supplies the gas station was selling. I almost couldn’t believe nobody had bought them.”  
  
Jack shrugged. “I can. How’s it look.”  
  
“Perfectly rediculous.”  
  
“Me to a _T_ then.” Jack nodded approvingly. “C'mon, I’ll fit yours.”  
  
They had enough time to crack open their drink cans before the sound of a clock ticking pumped out from the TV speakers. The last 60 seconds of 2016 began to count down, and both Jack and Hamish began to subconsciously gravitate towards the edge of the couch.  With only 10 seconds remaining, they joined in with the chanting crowd:  
  
“Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven… Six… Five… Four… Three… Two… One!”  
  
The “2017” sign atop 1 Times Square flared into life as the ball completed its drop, heralding the arrival of the new year.  
  
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Hamish and Jack cheered in unison with the millions gathered in New York, startling poor Toothless. The opening of _Auld Lang Syne_ struggled against their voices and the voices of the crowd, but it eventually won out. On the couch, the two young men began to sway with the music.  
  
“♫Should auld acquaintance be forgot,  
And never brought to mind?  
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,  
And days of auld lang syne?  
For auld lang syne, my jo,  
for auld lang syne,  
we’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,  
for auld lang syne.♪”  
  
They trailed off, letting the crowd carry on as a backing track.  
  
“Happy New Year, babe.” Jack smiled, brushing some of Hamish’s hair over his right ear.  
  
“Back at you, milord.” Hamish returned, and he leant in for the kiss.  
  
The ideal New Year’s Eve in Times Square might be okay for some, but for Jack, his ideal was right there: a couple of chilled drinks cans on the coffee table, fireworks on the TV, and kissing Hamish as the old year ticked over into the new.  
  
 _2017, bring it on!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight months after they first met, Hamish reflects on something he'd discovered he shared with Jack when it came to the weather.

A sequel to [Pluviophile](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7585954/chapters/17280091).

* * *

Snow.  
  
A near-perfect silence surrounded them like a warm blanket, a familiar friend from winters past that’d made a welcome return. The near-silence as the large flakes drifted to settle was only disturbed by the sound of the wind, all other noises muffled by the inches of powder that’d already fallen, and by the inches still yet to descend.  
  
The day had started with a virgin carpet of white, undisturbed, having fallen during the night. The schools had been closed and most of the kids had taken to Thaddeus Burgess Park to throw snowballs, make snowpeople, and go sledding or skating. Jack to his credit, had spend a good chunk of the day with his next-door neighbour Jamie, and the youngster’s motley crew of friends.

Eventually the crisp blue sky had clouded over, and soon the flakes had begun to appear again, ushering the reluctant children and child-like adults home as the afternoon trickled onward to evening.  
  
Two pairs of eyes, one blue, the other emerald watched contentedly as the flakes, having grown in size, joined their bretheren on the ground, and every available surface they could find. The clots of white danced occasionally as a gust blew in over the town.  
  
Hamish was sat beside him, curled up under a warm sheet that allowed them to share their body heat. It wasn’t cold in the house, but it didn’t matter, any excuse to be close to each other was more than enough. What’d started as a short walk sharing an umbrella eight months ago had bloomed into a relationship. It was now a common sight to see Jack over at Hamish’s house, or Hamish at Jack’s.  
  
And it was also quite common to see the both of them sat quietly beside each other when it was raining, and as they’d recently discovered; when it was snowing.  
  
Two fresh sounds entered Jack’s ears as he watched the ice crystals perform their ballet: the gentle fizz of a recently-opened drink can, and the soft tap of Hamish’s fingers on the screen of his smart phone (Jack gave wordless thanks to the fact the auburn-haired young man had set it to silent).  
  
“What are you looking at?”  
  
Hamish looked up, almost resembling a child who’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.  
  
“Oh…” he lowered the phone for a moment to give Jack his undivided attention. “Just curious about something.”  
  
“Must be something then if it’s making you miss all those flakes.” the ice-haired teenager nodded towards the world outside.  
  
Hamish reflected on the lightweight blizzard beyond the window glass. The sky was now growing dark, although the glow from the porch light, and from the other houses helped show off the weather despite the onset dusk.  
  
Hamish smiled idly to himself. “Sitting here with you reminded me of a while back. When we first met?”  
  
“Yeah?” Jack questioned curiously.  
  
“You said there was this word that described how you liked listening to rain, how you liked watching it.”  
  
Jack nodded in recollection. “‘Plooni’… 'Ploovi’… 'Ploobiphile’? Something like that.”  
  
“'Pluviophile’.” Hamish nudged good-naturedly. “Anyway, I was curious if there was a similar word for enjoying snow as it fell.”  
  
“Is there one?”  
  
“'Chionophile’.”  
  
“'Chionophile’.” Jack let the word roll off of his tongue.  
  
“One description said something like 'a creature that thrives in cold weather’.”  
  
Jack let out a relaxed laugh, Hamish feeling the rumble of the other young man’s mirth thanks to their shared close proximity. “Yeah, that sounds like me.”  
  
Hamish nuzzled closer to his boyfriend. He covered his mouth to stifle the yawn that was escaping. “Other websites suggested it meant 'someone who loves cold weather, snow’.”  
  
“Also me.” Jack agreed.  
  
“So you’re a Pluviophile, and a Chionophile.”  
  
“I’m also a Hamishophile, but who’s counting?”  
  
There was an amused snort from the green-eyed man as his eyes drooped, and eventually closed. The lull in the conversation gave way to silence, broken only by the gentle fizz of a drink can, the quiet rumble of the wind picking up, and the soft breathing of two sleeping lovers in embrace.

 


	15. Open late on Thursdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday nights at Burgess Bazaar were always the most dull, but that would soon change with the jingle of the bell above the door.

> Open late on Thursdays

  
That’s what the handwritten sign taped beneath the store hours announced in the rough script of the owner and manager of Burgess Bazaar, George Bletch.  
  
Hamish had asked his gruff-but-affable boss why they were open an hour later on Thursdays, the response went something like this:  
  
 _Some of our regulars like to pop in when the store’s quieter, it’s less intimidating for them._  
  
It’d satisfied his curiosity when he’d been first employed three years ago, but now… now Hamish was happy to admit that Thursday evenings were probably the part of his shift he’d learned to truly loath, they were the dullest part of the week.  Despite George’s explanation, hardly anyone ever came in past six on a Thursday.  
  
The bell above the door jingled, and he looked up with bored emerald eyes.  
  
Though sometimes there was an exception to the rule.

Hamish was greeted by the sight of a tall, pale-skinned teenager, clad in a vivid cobalt hoodie.  
  
He straightened up a little as the teenager milled about a bit by the door, casting his eyes over the wares the Bazaar had to offer.  
  
“Welcome to Burgess Bazaar, can I help you with anything?” Hamish would’ve won points for effort, but it was hard to mask the fact the shine had come off of the greeting some time ago.  
  
“Oh, not really.  I’m just browsing at the moment.”  
  
Hamish gave a polite nod.  “Give me a shout if you need anything.”  
  
“Sure.” the hoodie-wearing guy nodded back, with a half-smile.  
  
Hamish returned his attention to the second-hand copy of _Eragon_ he’d recently bought, it and other books like it had proven a gods-send when he’d first started working the shift, and George had been pretty good in allowing him to read it at the counter.  
  
Ten… fifteen minutes ticked by, and then the guy in the hoodie was making his way over to the counter.  
  
He was now wearing a balaclava.  Holding a gun.  
  
“Hands up!” he barked, and Hamish shot his hands up.  
  
“Okay… okay… let’s be cool.”  
  
“I want the money in the register, and a pack of Twinkies.” Hamish gave the guy a quizzical look.  “I’m hungry.”  
  
“Okay, okay.  I can give you the Twinkies, but the cash isn’t going anywhere.”  
  
The robber’s brows and mouth dropped into a frown.  “Why not?”  
  
“Can’t go anywhere without my boss’s say so.”  
  
“Then you better call him!” the robber shouted.  
  
“You want me to call my boss, to ask him if you can steal the cash from the register?”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
Hamish shrugged.  “Okay, but I’ll need to lower one of my hands.”  
  
The robber nodded.  “Just one, I’ll be watching.”  
  
Hamish nodded, and carefully extracted his phone from his pocket.  With practiced dexterity, he unlocked it and pulled up George’s contact.  
  
“Put it on speaker, and then down on the counter.”  
  
Hamish did as he was instructed, and waited as the phone rang.  
  
 _Brrrrrrpppp.  Brrrrrrpppp.  “Hamish?  Everything alright at the store?”  
  
_ “Everything’s peachy here, George.  I just had a… customer… who had an unusual request.”  
  
 _“Okay.”_ there was a sound that could’ve been George clearing his throat on the other end of the line.  _“What can I help you with, sir?”_  
  
“I want to steal the cash from the register, and a pack of Twinkies.”  
  
There was a pause on the line.  _“Oh.  I’m afraid we won’t be able to let you have the cash tonight, you see, it’s cold.”_  
  
“It’s cold cash?”  
  
 _“Yes.  And Hamish and I would be in a lot of hot water if we let go of that cold cash.”_  
  
The robber mulled it over.  
  
“Well, what can I steal?”  
  
 _“Well…”_ George mulled it over again.  _“I might be willing to let you take the Twinkies as a gesture of goodwill.”  
_  
“I really wanted something substantial in addition to the Twinkies.  What if I threaten to shoot your employee?”  
  
“Hey!” Hamish protested.  
  
 _“Oh, well, we couldn’t have that.  It doesn’t set a great standard for the relationship when you shoot your own boyfriend.  But if your heart’s set on stealing something, you might as well steal him away.  It should be closing time now.”_  
  
The robber nodded, a smile in the mouth hole of his balaclava.  “Deal.”  
  
A sucker attached to a foam projectile smacked into Hamish’s chest.  “Aggghh!”  
  
 _“What happened?  What did Jack do?”_  
  
“He shot me!” Hamish cried as he staggered backward dramatically.  
  
 _“If you die, it’ll count as one of your holiday days.”_  
  
Hamish bounced back, as if electrified.  “Ahhh… look at that, it’s only a flesh wound.”  
  
 _“That’s what I thought.”_ there was an audible chuckle down the line.  _“Give me best to you Mum and Dad, Jack.”_  
  
“I will, Mr. Bletch.”  
  
 _“Aye.  I’ll see you in the morning Hamish.”_  
  
“Sure thing.  Night.”  
  
Hamish ended the call, just in time for a second Nerf dart to attach itself beside the first one.  
  
“Oops.” Jack smirked sheepishly.

* * *

The lights were out and the shutters down, and with the store locked up Hamish and Jack were free to walk home hand in hand, with a pack of Twinkies to share.  
  
“It wasn’t bad, although you need to work on your ‘tough guy’ routine.”  
  
Jack put on an act of exaggerated offense.  “I thought my 'tough guy’ was pretty good.”  
  
His green-eyed boyfriend bounced a shoulder into one of his.  “You’re scarier when you’re fighting me for the last of the pop tarts.”  
  
Jack considered the point, and conceded with a thoughtful nod.  “Yeah, alright.”  
  
“Still, it was fun.  Though I think George would prefer to be left out of them.”  
  
“You know he likes me.”  
  
Hamish smirked.  “In small doses.  _Very_ small doses.”  
  
Jack planted a kiss on Hamish’s cheek, and pulled him closer against the frigid January air.  “He hasn’t gotten tired of me yet after a year and a half, and I think I’ve still got plenty of material to keep you from dying of boredom.”  
  
“I look forward to it.” Hamish returned, and gave Jack a kiss in return.  Of the many things Hamish Haddock’s boyfriend did for him, he would be eternally grateful for the nights that Jack Overland would pop over to the store with some new persona and act to alleviate his boredom. 


End file.
